A Flirt with the Wild Side
by Emerald Embers
Summary: Finally getting what was desired all along. Futomimi/Naoki


Futomimi wasn't fond of strong reactions - not in himself. It was often too painful to feel, given so much of his energy went on fighting his visions and controlling the instability of his body to prevent him spasming like other manikins. As such, he tended to keep a tight reign on his emotions, driving himself according to the more hopeful visions or doing as his new master requested.

Still, new experiences can shock a reaction out of the most reserved people, and there was no denying Naoki when he gestured for you to join him. Even when - as in this case - he wanted you to join him on the back of a flame-wheeled motorcycle that he'd dislodged a disgruntled-looking fiend from.

The bike could certainly move with astonishing speed, leaving many aggressive and confused creatures in their wake as they tore across the desert lands. Naoki had glanced at him for a second before slowing down a little and reaching with the hand that wasn't controlling the bike to pull Futomimi's hair-tie loose, grinning before returning his gaze to the horizon as Futomimi's hair started whipping about wildly in the air. Natural currents did not visit the circular world often and Futomimi had to admit, even if the rush of wind through his hair was only artificially generated by the speed of their ride, there was something exhilarating about the experience. "Why this?" He had to yell, the roar of the bike's engine covering near all noise. A sensory onslaught - that's what it was, between the vibrations and the way details flashed by, barely registering in his eyes for a second. Strangely, any scent seemed covered up by the constant burn of the tyres, making him overly aware that all he could smell and see with clarity was Naoki, the demi-fiend's pale skin glistening with what would be sweat if the wind didn't keep carrying it away.

"I've made a decision," Naoki shouted back, pulling his bike over to... well, nowhere remarkable, although the top of the dunes fell backwards into the void outside the world. The air seemed empty, as though no one had visited since the world changed, but there was something soothing about the silence of the area - something clean about the sand even though he ought to hate how much it differed from the moisture and mud of Mifunashiro. "I won't choose."

Shock was definitely an unpleasant feeling regardless of its cause. "Naoki, you need a Reason," Futomimi stated, somewhat worried by his master's pleased expression. It felt reckless.

"I'll go to Kagutsuchi without one. You couldn't conceive a Reason and there's not one human Reason worth following."

Naoki had snapped. It was the only reasonable explanation. "What about the next world?" Silence for a moment then, and Naoki turned around on the bike seat, reached up to run his hands through Futomimi's hair, not replying to the question. "You aren't supposed to have that freedom."

Naoki shrugged before planting a kiss on Futomimi's lips, and the manikin was abruptly reminded of how young the demi-fiend was. Most demons were ages old - even those that acted like children - and sometimes it was too easy to think of Naoki as being the same. A moment passed before Naoki broke the kiss, saying, "You don't taste like sand," in a genuinely surprised voice.

"What was that for?"

"I'll save you this time," Naoki replied, lips barely inches from Futomimi's own so their breath mingled before he moved in for another kiss, sliding his tongue in this time and sighing quietly through his nose.

Futomimi, meanwhile, was caught on that last expressed thought; remembering his death, how he'd known it would happen but had pleaded for Naoki's help regardless. On waking from his second death he knew everything - knew about his previous life, the crimes he had committed - and it had been strange viewing his lives from a new point of view. The first time he'd wanted love and attention but his visions prevented that from happening, made him a freak, and he'd rather have seen the ones who could have loved him dead than mocking him. Then the second life came where he was near worshipped by the manikins, loved for his leadership, but that wouldn't have come about without the visions either.

Naoki was unique that way. Naoki knew of the visions, but didn't believe them to be freakish or divine. He just saw them as another ability - no more unusual than the demons with seductive or debilitating skills - and talked of Futomimi as an ally rather than 'the one with the foresight'.

There was another moment when Naoki pulled back for the second time that Futomimi was reminded of his master's age; not in anything he said, but in his actions - embarrassment at arousal despite the two of them being alone and the fact Futomimi had not turned down him once so far. Knowing all too well that actions drew more attention than words, Futomimi slid a hand down Naoki's side to his hip, waiting for acceptance before he'd consider moving it any further. A shame he couldn't fully reciprocate given his own body hadn't been designed for procreation, but intimacy was something that could survive impotence and it was a delight in itself listening to the slight hitch in Naoki's breathing at the suggestion.

Naoki tended to quiet whenever actions were involved, as if speech and movement were mutually exclusive, and said nothing as he took Futomimi's hand from his waist and shifted it to the front of his shorts. Memories of fantasies in what seemed so distant a life now guided Futomimi's hand, squeezing and rubbing through material before pulling the shorts down enough to expose Naoki further, allowing direct contact. The first life would have wanted more, wanted pleas, professions of love first before granting any sort of satisfaction, but this seemed better somehow. Watching Naoki balancing himself carefully so as not to fall off the bike, arched so his markings stretched taut and beautiful, breath uneven, all of it seemed more natural knowing he hadn't been forced to ask for it. The display wasn't for Futomimi's viewing pleasure alone, and that made it all the more delicious.

Youth did mean stamina but it didn't demand endurance, and Naoki's stifled cry as he came over Futomimi's hand and his own chest helped to prevent their attracting any attention from a Principality that passed by. Probably a good thing on more than one level; the Divine set originated from a culture less tolerant of homosexuality than Naoki's, and it would have been unfortunate to cause any worsening of their already aggressive nature.

That, and Futomimi would have taken an inordinate amount of pleasure in killing it and any allies it summoned to its side, all things considered what they had done to his people.

"We should get to a fountain," Naoki said at last, after a moment's rest to recover his strength. "I should." A cough, and he pulled his shorts back up before turning around again, reacquainting himself with the bike's handles and pedals and completely failing to hide a small smile when Futomimi's hands closed over his. As the manikin's leader alone Futomimi would never have dreamt of behaving with such a lack of decorum, but the human memories did bring the reminder that sometimes manners were outright unimportant.

It was strange that they'd ended up like this; both finding something they wanted - Naoki an answer, Futomimi a friend - given how it had happened. Futomimi had died twice to get there, and Naoki had watched the second death happen.

Yes, it was morbid. But finally getting what was wanted all along wouldn't have been half as satisfying if it had been easy.

.

The End


End file.
